Earworm
by Teyerin
Summary: Simon finds out what happens when he can't get a particular tune out of his head. Oneshot.


Earworm

By Teyerin

He hummed a simple melody.

Twenty notes in all, wordless for the moment, but simple all the same, as he took a single step with each note.

"You better shut up, Doc, or you're liable to choke."

Simon Tam looked up from the book he was reading, puzzled. Looking from Jayne Cobb to Zoë, who gave a curt nod of affirmation to the unspoken question, he stopped. "Sorry." With that, he resumed his walk through the dining area stopping long enough to grab a piece of fruit.

He began humming again as soon as he descended the stairs. It wasn't until he made it all the way to the cargo bay that he realized that Zoë had followed him.

"Sorry," he said again, for what, he didn't know.

"Don't worry about Jayne," she said. "He's been in a foul mood ever since Mal beat him at cards." Zoë sat down on one of the crates along the wall. "That tune…" she started.

"Earworm," Simon said before she had finished. The look on her face told him he needed to explain. "It's when you get a song or melody stuck in your mind and can't get rid of it. It's a harmless thing actually." He shrugged his shoulders. "Or in my case, downright silly."

"You've been humming that for a couple of days now. I didn't say anything because, well, I thought you were doing it deliberately to irritate Jayne."

He smiled at that. "It obviously worked then. I hope that he doesn't try and kill me in my sleep."

"Won't let that happen, Doc," Zoë said. "After all, I feel safe with you looking over me whenever I'm caught on that operating table of yours."

The comment reassured him for some reason, of what fear, he couldn't quite name yet. "I'm glad your visits are fewer than Jayne's. And then again…" Simon blushed. Had he just said that to a married woman? "I didn't mean it the way-."

"Relax. I know what you meant." She got up to leave. "Earworm, eh? What kind of name is that? Doesn't sound like an Alliance piece, or is it?"

Simon shook his head. "Oh, no, it isn't called 'Earworm.' It's a nursery rhyme from Earth-that-was. I can't quite name it, exactly."

Zoë shook her head. "Hope it's a cheerful melody." He shrugged his shoulders while giving her a slight smile. "Depends on the mood, I suppose," she said then left.

-------------------------

He couldn't explain why he saw his sister dancing around in circle with a crown of flowers – posies, possibly, on her head. All he knew was that she was happy, and therefore, he was happy. One moment, they were children, the next circling, they were adults. The different timeframes blended together as the first part of the rhyme played in his head.

'Ring around…Ring around…Ring around…'

He never saw what the ring was around or what it was made of, but it didn't matter. His sister was happy. His sister was safe. That was all he could ever want for.

-------------------------

"Are you sure?" Hoban Washburn asked.

"What?" Simon said, looking away from the control panel. What was he signaling for, he wondered?

"The frequency. Are you sure you have it set to the right frequency," Wash asked again.

There wasn't a hint of frustration in the pilot's voice, no sign of impatience, either. Come to think of it, Simon thought, he had a hard time recalling if or when Wash ever raised his voice – except for the rare arguments that Wash and his wife Zoë had.

Bringing his mind to the present, Simon looked again at the panel. "Yeah. Yes, there it is. Should be getting a…"

Simon couldn't see anything beyond the static on the screen, and yet all he could see were

'Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…'

"Hey, Mr. Universe!" Wash said, not disturbed by having an audio-only feed.

"Hey to you, Wash!" The voice sounded to be about the same age as Wash's. Same jovial mood, too, Simon noticed. And yet…

"Wanted to know if anything important has come up on the signal worth sharing," Wash said.

"Nope. Same puppet theatre, same pomp and circumstance. No new warrants to share, either."

"Good to hear," Wash said, a slight smile on his face as he nodded. Simon wondered if Wash was aware that the other man, this Mr. Universe couldn't see him. "Will check with you regarding new signals when we need them. Take care."

"You too, Wash. Remember, can't stop the signal!"

With that, the communication ended. Simon studied the man beside him, noted how the calm wasn't lost for a moment - just a quiet confidence that washed over him despite the visions of smoke and dangling wires.

Simon put a hand to his forehead.

"Are you all right?"

"Just a headache," Simon said as the melody played over and over in his head. After a while, the tune subsided. "I'll be fine," he said, chiding himself for the hallucinations.

-------------------------

'Pocket full of posies…'

"Here, let me take over."

It shouldn't have been so hard to loosen the bolts. A group of bolts clustered together (why he saw a flower pattern to them just now, he couldn't explain) just above him should have been…

Simon let go of the wrench as his hand rushed to his forehead. The melody was starting to get louder again, those gorramn words now with flashing yellow darts over them.

"Give me that," Kaylee said, reaching for the rest of the tools. Simon reluctantly handed them to her. She held his hand until he climbed down from the short ladder, not letting go until both feet were on the floor.

Sitting on the floor, he watched as Kaylee finished the job effortlessly. She moved on to the next maintenance job as he let his head fall forward into his hands. He tried to listen to her words, tried to listen to the cheerful, shiny voice that matched the spirit that was Kaylee. He tried to match the humming of the engines with the melody of her voice. Try as he might…

'Pocket full of posies…'

…he failed.

"You sure I can't get you something for the pain, Simon?"

He felt her hand against his back, rubbing comfortably. He focused on the touch, focused on the softness of her hand through his shirt. Yet the tune tormented him, taking touch away from him along with everything else. It was as if everything around him was growing numb.

"Just tired," he said. Truth be told, he hadn't felt this dizzy before. A part of him was afraid to stand up again.

"Let's get you to bed then. I promise to wake you when-."

He let her pull him up and guide him back to his room. If there was one constant bright spot in his life, besides his sister, it was Kaylee. Where he'd see darkness, she'd always see light. Where he felt pessimism, she felt optimistic. If he had a chance, let alone the nerve, he'd have asked her to marry him.

She lay his head down against the pillow then removed his shoes. "Sure I can't get you anything?"

"I'll be fine," he lied. "Promise."

"Sleep well," she said, then kissed him on the cheek.

-------------------------

"Not now," Simon whispered as he sat on the floor just outside of Jayne's door. Everyone else had gone to bed long ago. Only Jayne was awake – or so he hoped.

Jayne played the instrument, similar to a guitar, he owned just before calling it a night, something he had done more often lately, since the humming. And every night, when Simon couldn't sleep, he found himself just outside the mercenary's door, desperate for a remedy.

The other day, Simon heard Zoë and Jayne arguing about earworms, but mostly about music in general. Simon let part of the conversation replay in his mind as he waited, desperately, for Jayne to resume his playing.

_"It ain't right, that's all."_

_"Jayne, there's nothing bad about it. Some people get certain stories or images stuck in their heads. In the doctor's case, it's music."_

_"Well, it ain't even got words to it. What kind of music is that?"_

_"Not everyone listens to the kind of music you do, Jayne. And who said it didn't have words, huh? Could be, the words are in a language the doctor doesn't rightly know how to translate."_

_"Maybe that goofy sister of his could, not saying I care to know it. Probably some dumb song that has no real meaning to it anyhow."_

_"Then how about introducing him to one of your favorite melodies, Jayne? You're the one with an instrument and musical talent, so why don't you provide the cure?"_

_"Help the doc? Are you kidding? I'm playing every night just to get that gorramn tune outta my head."_

"Don't stop now," Simon whispered. "I need your help, Jayne. Please."

He leaned his head against the wall and waited some more. As if the gruff man heard his plea, a song rose from the depths of the bunk. Simon closed his eyes, calling up memories of how the tune 'Man Called Jayne' came to be. He focused on as much of the details as he could, thankful for the sleep that the strings below carried to him.

As he had done almost every night, Simon fell asleep, thanking the music of the 'Jayne-man.'

-------------------------

"Gorramnit!"

Simon felt himself pulled to his feet just as metal doors on either side of him clanged open. This time, he was too late! This time, he didn't move fast enough! This time, he-.

"Jayne, let Simon go!"

He recognized Wash's voice. Wash, who had kindly joined him every morning in the meeting room just off to the side of the dining area. Wash, who kindly offered him a cup of tea and just kept him company.

"What are you doing here?" Jayne said bad breath hot against Simon's face.

Simon tried to stand on his own two feet, but one leg had gone completely numb. He couldn't even lean against the wall for support, given Jayne's grip on the collar of his shirt.

"Answer me!"

He couldn't. The mercenary's fingers tightened, choking him now. Before he could prepare himself, Simon felt the full force of Jayne's fist against his jaw. He was aware of his head hitting the side of the doorway, aware of Kaylee, Wash and Zoë running to, calling to Jayne to keep him from beating Simon up.

'Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…'

Simon wanted a night free of the images and nightmares, just once.

Jayne's foot granted that wish.

-------------------------

"You're going to be all right, Doctor."

Simon felt a cold compress against his head. Opening his eyes, he saw that he was in the medical room. "What happened?"

Zoë looked down on him. "You're kidding, right?" He shook his head. "Jayne used you for a kicking bag." She put a hand to his shoulder and pushed him gently to his side, away from her. "You got a nasty cut on the back of your head when you hit the bulkhead."

He felt the familiar foam of the bandaging agent as Zoë applied it carefully. When she had finished, she carefully held his head to allow him to roll to his other side. Simon reached out to her, his fingers grazing her back as she turned to return the syringe to its place.

'All fall down…All fall down…All fall down…'

He let out a small cry as his hand fell, dangling from the side of the bed. His hand was empty…

…empty of the medical bag he always carried, empty of the medicines and tools he needed to tend to those who…

'All fall down…All fall down…All fall down…'

"Shh, Doc. You'll be fine. You just need some sleep," Zoë said.

He felt the tears roll down his face as he imagined her, the diligent, dutiful soldier in terrible pain – a pain he couldn't cure or prevent. He couldn't-.

"Doctor, listen to me!"

Blinking, he noticed she had his face in both of her hands, her thumbs wiping away the tears. "Doctor, I need you to talk to me."

He wanted to tell her, to say aloud the visions that this gorramn tune brought. But, the idea of her hearing the pain that he was in made it all the more painful for him. Wordlessly, he cried some more, unable to push the demons away.

At some point, he cried himself to the point of exhaustion, thankful that the soldier stayed at his side.

-------------------------

'All fall down…All fall down…All fall down…'

Simon sat under the countertop, arms wrapped around his knees in a futile attempt to hide. Closing his eyes tightly, he couldn't get rid of the bodies he saw. Nothing made sense now as the same words played over and over again.

'All fall down…All fall down…All fall down…'

"No!" he cried.

The images danced about his mind like daggers threatening to pierce his brain as the gorramn tune played on.

Pressing the heels of his hands into his closed eyes, Simon struggled to breathe. The bodies lay everywhere – decayed in a pristine city. These bodies didn't fall down, none of them! They possessed no purpose, no reason to fight!

"No! No! No!" he cried over and over again as he stared at the floor. He had administered a sleep inducer, but it wasn't enough. He had added several layers of clothes before leaving his room, but still he shook from cold.

Things were supposed to be perfect and safe. Alliance approved, in fact. Instead, Simon felt a dry coldness seep into his soul as the still-clothed corpses lay, no longer caring that time for them had stopped.

-------------------------

"Is there anything you need to discuss with me, Doc?"

Simon looked up from his work and saw the captain standing beside him. "Um, no, sir. Why?"

Mal Reynolds leaned against the counter, crossing one foot over the other and folding his arms over his chest. "Why?" he repeated. "Because, I don't like the idea of not knowing when one of my crew is sick. And when they're sick, I usually send them to you."

"All right," Simon said, nodding. He felt like a child being scolded by a teacher. Somehow, it always sounded worse when the captain did it.

"No," Mal said, taking a firm hold of Simon's shoulder, "not 'all right.' Kaylee tells me you haven't eaten in days."

Simon opened his mouth to protest, but the captain continued. "I know I haven't seen you at Common meal for quite some time, either."

Was that all that was required to reduce the concerned looks and comments, he wondered? "I'm sorry," he said.

Mal shook his head as he poked a finger into Simon's chest. "And that's another thing – your saying sorry. That's been coming up a lot lately and I don't like it."

"Sor-." Simon caught himself. "Sir, I'll be at supper tonight. In fact," he added, "I'll help…" Whose turn was it to cook? What night was this? Why was he volunteering?

"Jayne," Mal offered. "Doc, I'm not sure you have to go that far to-."

"No, no," Simon said, too quickly, foolishly, "It's the least I can do to make it up to him." He made as if to put some tools away. "Besides, I probably owe him."

"For what?" Mal asked, taking the tools out of Simon's hands. "What are you saying 'sorry' for now?"

Simon shook his head, hoping what he would say next sounded as trivial to the captain as he needed it to be. "For giving him a hard time with the…with the humming."

Mal gave Simon a little push as he laughed out loud. "You're kidding, right? My goodness, Doc! That… That was intentionally funny!"

Simon chuckled uneasily. "Right, sir. Trying my hand at humor," he paused, "via humming."

Mal patted Simon on the back, then steered him toward the door. "I don't rightly know what to say to that. However, you could do us all a favor by beating Jayne to the kitchen and preparing us something edible to eat."

Simon's shoulders relaxed. "Of course," he said.

-------------------------

"Do something right."

He blinked. "What?"

"Do something right," River repeated. She pointed to the array of food on the table. "You almost made something dumb and disgusting. Pay attention."

He looked down and realized how close he came to adding the protein cubes to the last of the fresh fruit. That would have been a horrendous mistake even Jayne wouldn't have made. Focusing on the strawberries, he recalled the first meal the new family on Serenity had almost a year ago. Shepherd had brought a small box of strawberries from his garden and had generously shared them all.

Something so small, so bright, so sweet and so valuable. He hadn't realized how much he had taken for granted while growing up on Osiris. There, that city had been so clean, so orderly, so Alliance. Yet, he no longer saw it as home.

Home was now Serenity. Family went beyond his sister, his sole purpose and focus in life now.

"Now."

"What," he said, ashamed at having let his mind wander so far.

"Time to call the others for dinner now."

He nodded as he handed River the food to set on the table. "You call them, mei-mei. I'm not hungry."

"You promised."

His shoulders slouched; he scolded himself for forgetting that his sister could read him so easily like a book.

"No, not so easy," she said, taking his hand and leading him to the table. "Not now," she added, as she gently pushed him down into the chair.

-------------------------

Simon didn't dare sit outside of Jayne's room, as much as he wanted to. Nor could he trust himself to go to the engine room, because knowing his luck, Kaylee would be there. Although, if he were desperate enough, he could probably find a place to hide.

'We all fall down…'

"Rough night?"

"What?" Simon pressed his hands against his temple one last time before looking up at Wash. He didn't remember when or how he got to the round table in the sitting area.

Wash gave him a smile as he set a tray down on the table then sat opposite him.

Somehow, Simon couldn't see anyone else as happily married as Wash or Zoë, not that Simon hadn't thought about marriage or a future outside of River's safety.

"You look like you're having a rough night," Wash said as he handed Simon a cup of tea and a bowl of hot rice. "See, if you had a wife, things like this wouldn't go unnoticed as long as they have."

Simon had to smile at that. If there was one major failing he'd own up to, it was his inability to let anyone look out for him if they could be useful in helping him look out for River. That's why he felt safe with this family. And to imagine Wash as a father was something that warmed Simon's heart.

"You'd think," Simon said slowly stirring the cup before him, "You'd think that as a doctor, I'd know how to cure this. Can for anyone else."

Wash pushed the bowl of rice closer to Simon. "Well, you know what they say, 'doctors are their own worse patients.' That and… Oh, never mind."

Both men laughed then ate their breakfast in silence for a while.

"You and Zoë complete each other so perfectly," Simon said at last.

Wash pointed at Simon with his chopsticks, "So do you and your sister," he said. "Two halves to make a whole. What else is needed, right?"

"I admire how you stay so calm, compared to Zoë's…" How could he say it? What was he trying to say? "Discipline," he said at last. It wasn't anywhere near what he wanted to say, however.

"Well, opposites attract," Wash said. "The two halves… with you and your sister, there's smart and-."

"Smarter," Simon said quickly. "She is so smart, so gifted… I wish I could be more like her, or at least understand her." He looked down into his teacup. "So often I feel as if I have no control. It's as if I'm only letting fate or the winds carry me this way or that. It's maddening, really – downright frightening."

"Still got that tune stuck in your head?" Wash asked. Simon nodded. "Try this and repeat after me: 'I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar.'"

Simon gave him a 'come-again' look, before he repeated, "I am a leaf on the wind. Watch how I soar." He shook his head and chuckled. "What does that mean, exactly?'

"Repeat it a few more times," Wash said, "and maybe it will help you out, help you lose some of the weight you're carrying on your shoulders lately, too."

This time, Simon sighed. "It's that obvious?" he asked.

Wash shrugged. "You may not be humming that tune so much, but your eyes say you're still carrying it."

Desperate to change the subject, Simon asked, "How long have you and Zoë been married?"

Wash smiled, looking as though he was not offended nor quickly letting the topic go for good. "Long enough to know that if I lost her, someone might as well pierce me in the chest."

Something alerted Wash to go to the control room. "We're not done with this, you know," he said, getting up to leave. He began to clean up his share of the mess.

"I'll take care of this," Simon said, hands spread over the dishes.

Wash nodded his consent. "Not done with this, I tell you."

As soon as the pilot left up the stairs, Simon's fists came up to his head, pressing with all their might as the images ('All fall down…) rushed faster and louder with each repetition.

"I am a leaf on the wind," Simon said softly as he rocked back and forth, "watch how I soar. I'm a leaf on the wind… a leaf on the wind…"

Try as he might, ashes took over.

-------------------------

Charred bodies in burning buildings, the ages of the victims varied as no part of the mining (how did he know that?) town was left unmarked. Smoke and ashes were everywhere in the now-dead town. It was as if the monsters that had done this refused to even see fit to let blood flow anywhere.

At times, he found himself running towards something or someone, aware of his feet one in front of the other. Time was running out, that much he knew. But, his final destination... He cursed himself for letting the dust choke him, slow him down. Gorramn burning dust! The sun burned hot on his back, on his head, as he ran. The bag (he hadn't left his medicine bag!) weighed heavily and yet he didn't care. Somewhere, a voice was calling out. He had to get to-.

"Doctor?"

Simon's eyes flung open and he saw Shepherd Book looking right at him, crouched down at his level.

"Are you all right, son?" Book offered him a container of water and a towel.

Simon shook his head, not comprehending.

"You've been down here an awfully long time. You missed Common meal again and we were concerned. Thought you were up to your old habits again."

Had it been that long, Simon wondered? "Lost track of time," he said, hoping the Shepherd would buy the lame excuse.

The guilt must have shown on Simon's face, he feared, because the Shepherd continued. "Don't worry about it, son. Sometimes I think I might be missing out on something I shouldn't. Care to tell me about your troubles?"

Simon wanted to. He wanted to tell someone the images he had seen without being labeled as crazy. Of course, just listening to himself in his mind, Simon was sure he was.

The two words played louder in his head now, 'Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…' His face burned as his hands shook. "Something silly, that's all." He wrapped his arms around his chest, willing himself not to shake with fear and shame. He couldn't bring himself to look the Shepherd in the eye, instead staring at the container and towel the older man held.

Of all the passengers on Serenity, Simon found the most profound comfort in Shepherd Book. Granted, he knew next to nothing about the older man, except that he had left the abbey about the same time Simon and River had escaped to Persephone. But there was a confident calm that all on board drew from, even Captain Malcolm Reynolds, who loudly professed a strong distain toward religion, period.

Through good times and bad (even though the latter far outnumbered the former), Book was the conscience that kept them straight and true. Somehow, Simon thought, if Serenity lost the Shepherd, then all of them in the family/flock would be scattered and lost. That was a possibility Simon didn't want to face.

"Did you hear me?"

Simon blinked, looked up, and felt ashamed again, given the look of concern etched on Book's face. "Um, sorry. I wasn't…" He reached for the water, gave a nod of thanks, and then took a long drink. With the towel Book handed him, Simon wiped away the drops of water from his mouth. Following the older man's glance, Simon wiped away the perspiration as well.

"I've not been feeling well lately," he said. Part of him knew that was both a lie and a truth. For whom, he wasn't sure. "Didn't want to disturb anyone else or anything, so…"

Book knelt down to look Simon in the eye. "That's why I suggested that you'd probably sleep better in your bed than a cold floor."

Suddenly, a list of things to do rushed through Simon's mind. "I still have to-. I mean, I need to-."

Book shook his head, as if reading his thoughts. "You're going to go and get some rest. End of discussion."

Simon allowed himself to be pulled up by the Shepherd's strong arms. All the while, the bearded man hummed a tune of his own. Wanting to learn more, Simon asked, "What is that?"

"What?" Book said, not slowing his pace. "Oh, that's just an old, old hymn from a musician named Tommy Dorsey. I find strength and comfort in that tune from time to time."

"Could you tell me more about it?" Simon asked, afraid to be alone now.

"Well," Book started, "it was written by a man seeking strength after losing his family during childbirth. He was about to give up hope when…" When he finished telling the story, Book sang the hymn again.

Somehow, at some point, the Shepherd's singing lulled Simon to sleep.

-------------------------

He wiped away the tears streaming down his cheek with one hand as he fumbled for the syringe with another.

'Ashes, ashes/ we all fall down. Ashes, ashes/ we all fall down. Ashes…'

All he wanted was sleep! The song didn't torture him then! And yet he hadn't slept in days. He was running out of excuses to give and places to hide.

So focused he was on the syringe that he failed to hear the captain walk in.

"Wait a minute, Doc!" Mal said as he took the medicine away from him. "Just what in the black do you think you're doing?"

"N-n-nothing. J-j-just trouble s-s-sleeping, that's all." Gods, he hoped his hands weren't visibly shaking! Had he wiped away all of the evidence? Had he at least looked somewhat sane in his own territory of the medical lab?

"Then at least let a steady hand help you here, Doc!" Mal said slapping Simon's hands away.

'Too late! Have to hide! Have to try!' he thought. If only he could be assured of the fact that the captain wouldn't look at the label!

"How much do you need of this?"

Out of foolishness or panic, Simon yanked the bottle out of the captain's hands then swept clear the countertop of its contents nearby.

"Gorramnit!" Mal said, barely jumping out of the way of some of the broken glass. "What-?"

Simon continued to push and throw things in the captain's direction, not insomuch as a means of keeping the captain away but to toss the noises afar. The nursery rhyme threatened to kill him then and there, and it was all Simon could do to fight back. He couldn't see, hear or sense what he was doing anymore.

The lamps, chairs and finally the operating table crashed to the floor. Nothing left to throw; Simon was defenseless as Malcolm Reynolds grabbed him in a choke hold. Rather than protect himself, Simon's hand clenched around the bottle, fearful of the captain finding out the contents.

His fingers were pried loose and the bottle fell from one hand to the other. Before Simon could say anything, Malcolm Reynolds read the label, and then scowled. Simon reached for the bottle, kicking at the captain behind him with one foot.

The chokehold tightened. It was then that Simon could hear the others running towards them, shouting, just as they had before with Jayne's attack.

'All fall down…All fall down…All fall down…'

In a mixed blessing of sorts, darkness enveloped Simon shortly thereafter as he finally fell to the floor.

-------------------------

"Shh." Someone was stroking his head, brushing the hair out of his face. "Shh. You're safe, Simon."

"River," he whispered. "Make it stop. Please, help me make it stop!"

She cradled his head in her lap. "How? You have to say aloud what hurts you, or I don't know how."

Suddenly, he found himself laughing, no, cackling hysterically. Soon, the laughter gave way to sobs; the sobs gave way to whimpers. "Bullet in the brainpan – squish," he said at last.

River pulled his face up close to hers with both hands and said, "No! Don't ever say that! Never!"

He let her rock him in her arms, his hand clutched tightly in hers. "Can't make it stop, _mei-mei_. 'Ashes, ashes…All fall down…Ashes, ashes…All fall down…'"

"That's bubonic plague, silly. Only really bad rim planets have that."

"Death, everywhere, every time, with every note, _mei-mei_. Make it stop. Please, make it stop."

She kissed him on the forehead. "Want to sleep," she said. He nodded. "Make you sleep, then."

Again, blessed black embraced him as he realized that it must have been a dream…

-------------------------

He leaned against the doorway, just out of sight of the others in the dining area. The voices overlapped, but for now at least drove the maddening tune to the back of his mind. They were at a place called 'Haven.' Shepherd was leaving them and Simon couldn't put into words the loss he felt.

'Ashes, ashes…'

He dug his fingernails into his skin as if that alone would push the melody away. It was a minor help.

"Shepherd says," Mal said, "what the boy had was something powerful and a mite bit dangerous."

Wash asked, "Are you able to get the medicine he needs then? I mean, can we help him-?"

"You saying," Kaylee interrupted, "that he could have kilt himself?"

Zoë answered, "That's exactly what he's saying. But-."

"Why'd you stop him, then?" Jayne asked.

The cacophony rose to a crescendo at that remark.

Simon couldn't help but wonder, for a fleeting second, why death couldn't have him. But then, who would protect River?

"I'm in need of some answers and I need them now!" Mal said, raising his voice above the others. "Zoë, what do you know?"

"He said it was an earworm that was bugging him, something harmless."

Wash spoke up. "Well, that's not the case, given how many times I've found him sitting by Jayne's door tr-."

"And I set him straight!" Jayne yelled. "Got rid of him before he could pass that worm on to me! That gorramn-!"

"It wasn't the first time, Jayne," Wash said. "I've actually carried him away from there many a morning after."

"That makes two of us," Zoë said.

"I can't help but wonder," Book said, "has anyone else found him hiding in either the cargo bay or the engine room?"

"Well, maybe once," Jayne said, "when I foolishly didn't just let him roll himself into the cargo hold and seal him up in there."

Mal yelled, "Were any of you going to tell me about this at some point? Like, maybe the first time it happened?"

"He said it was a nursery rhyme, from Earth-that-was," Zoë continued.

"Never did say the name of it, neither," Kaylee said.

"Anyone happen to know the name of this rotten rhyme?" Mal asked.

Simon imagined everyone shaking their heads, and with good reason. He couldn't name the rhyme then when he tried. Thanks to River, though, he finally knew. 'Ring Around the Rosey," he mouthed just as…

River said, "Ring Around the Rosey."

"The Black Plague," Shepherd said. "River, do you know if Simon has your…gift?"

"Oh, great, two freaks aboard! Mal, you shoulda let the doc kill hims-!"

There was a grunt then a thud. Simon could only guess who threw the punch...

"Honey," Wash said, "are you all right?"

…or not, he supposed. Simon was grateful to Zoë, grateful to them all, in fact. As he took comfort in these things, the melody, the words, and the images hit him with such force that he fell to the floor, consumed by more pain than he could possibly wish upon the Alliance.

-------

'Ashes, ashes… Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…'

-------

Haven!

-------

'Ashes, ashes… Ashes, ashes…Ashes, ashes…'

-------

Shepherd Book!

-------

'All fall down…We all fall down. All fall down…We all fall down.'

-------

They were falling, all of them, one by one. Mr. Universe. Mingo. Family. The darkness threatened to claim them all.

-------

'All fall down…We all fall down. All fall down…We all fall down.'

-------

The last thing his conscious mind saw was his sister running away, and then vanishing into nothingness.

----------------------------

"Shh. I'll protect you, Simon. My turn to protect you."

He cried as he hadn't cried before, letting the tears flow through his racking body, letting his sister absorb the pain he could not speak, letting himself accept defeat as the rest of the world, Serenity, Alliance and all, slipped away from him.

-----------------------------

River's tears mingled with her brother's. It had been a long, cruel couple of nights, but it was almost over. A nightmare that was his and yet shouldn't have been his had pained her as much as it pained him to see her cry.

She could never, would never be able to share the memories in her mind that tormented her so. What had suffocated her brother had finally been released, absorbed into her unconsciousness where it would meld with the other secrets and nightmares she knew, yet didn't know.

How often had she seen the desperation on his face as he wished (foolishly) to remove all of her suffering as his own? How often had she heard him promise in the middle of the night that he'd never rest until she was completely safe (again, more foolishness)?

Slowly laying her brother down on the bed, she lay beside him, resting an arm across his chest. At last, his breathing and heart rate returned to normal. To think of the damage caused by a silly little child's rhyme...

River thought back to the place they called home on Osiris. Of course, home really no longer existed for either of them, but that was beside the point. She recalled a lullaby Simon sang to her on nights she got scared and couldn't sleep. She remembered the security she felt with the words, his soft voice…

She hummed a simple melody…


End file.
